Laurel thought taking a lower posture could save him from a terrible fate. Maybe, showing his belly to the gigantic predator that glared at him with spite could solve all of his problems, at least that's what his bestial instincts told him.
He lowered his head until the hate faded.
The flames on Oswald's fur were moving like algae in the river, they kept the same size but did not seem to torture him anymore. Impossible to tell if he was ignoring the pain or bearing it. Laurel couldn't resolve himself to approach the flaming beast, he feared the burn and imagined the waves of pain spreading all over his body the instant he stepped forward.
Never will he have the opportunity to taste the magical potion that allowed to recover his sanity. It was all gone with the burning ambers of the dryad. It was now far in the past, the teenager was able to let go much more easily than his past self even though his past grudges remained intact.
